


Second Sightseeing

by FrostKitten8



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Weird Genetics, and a lot more mentioned but who can tag every cameo, but i promise they will be here, most of them don't show up till later, not a fluff fic but boy does it get fluffy, these boys are just Soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2020-05-29 13:38:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19401433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostKitten8/pseuds/FrostKitten8
Summary: A very close call kick starts a new instinct, leaving Snufkin with a lot of questions.Playing with Joxter's canon powerful intuition, and what it could mean for his son.





	1. Chapter One

One sunny, warm afternoon, around midsummer, Moomin and Snufkin make their way up toward the Lonely Mountains and the edge of Moominvalley. Today is a day for just the two of them, and it has brought them to the same place they always go to be alone in comfortable silence, taking in the sights of the world from the very top of it. Or at least what feels like it. As they trek the steep trails up the mountainside, Moomin has come up with a sort of game to play to pass the time.

"Okay, okay," Moomin hums, "If you were a… fruit!"

"A fruit?" Snufkin snorts.

"Yeah! A fruit! Which one would you be?"

Thus far they had determined that Snufkin was aventurine if he was a gem, a blue jay if he was a bird, and

"Isn't this a little repetitive, Moomintroll? We _just_ decided I was a potato."

And a potato if he was a vegetable. Though, strictly speaking, potatoes are a tuber, not a vegetable - but Snufkin hadn't the heart to correct Moomin on any of his assignments so far.

"No, no - maybe a little - but no! Fruits are completely different!"

"Completely?"

"Completely! I think you're a… hmmm…" Moomin taps his chin in a manner so very like Moominpappa.

Snufkin turns, looking back at Moomin and pulling at the skirt of his old green coat-dress in a short curtsy. "A kiwi?"

Moomin giggles. "Please, be serious!"

"Ah, yes, I forgot," Snufkin teases, turning back up the mountain, "selecting the proper fruit for one's personality is the most _serious_ of matters! How rude of me."

Moomin jogs up, pulling close enough to lightly smack the back of Snufkin's head with his tail. "Well alright then, if you're so smart, what fruit am _I_ then?"

Thus far they had determined Moomintroll was an opal if he was a gem, a dove if he was a bird, a cauliflower if he was a vegetable, and now

"Hmmm… I think… you're a peach." Snufkin finally purrs out.

"Awww, is that cause I'm so swee~t?" Moomin teases, fluttering his eyelashes like Snorkmaiden likes to.

"Yep, got it in one. Good job!"

"Why thank you! …wait." Moomin stops very courteously to let the conversation catch up with him. "Oh - OH. SNUF, THAT'S NOT FAIR, YOU CAN’T JUST _DO_ THAT."

"I can and I shall! If you want to stop me, you'll have to catch me first!" And with no further warning, Snufkin grabs hold of his hat and starts running up the mountain path.

Moomin squeaks out something akin to an objection before he, too, starts running up the mountainside. Snufkin may be carrying his heavy pack, filled up for their mountaintop picnic, but he's used to moving under a weight. Moomin, however, is not much used to running up mountains chasing beasts much more agile than him. If he realizes that the Mumrik is slowing himself down for his benefit, he certainly doesn't object. And so they go, running, shouting, and giggling up the rocky paths, their joy echoing through the passes. They're having a grand old time, right up until a peculiar and unfamiliar feeling starts to come over Snufkin. He tries to shake it, but can’t quite ignore it growing in the back of his mind.

Moomin watches him, several feet up the path, suddenly pull to a complete halt, as though his feet have gotten stuck to the road and refuse to move any further. Worry pushes him to one final burst, bringing him breathlessly behind Snufkin.

"Snuf? Are you alright? What's wrong?" But he doesn't get a response. "Snufkin? What is it??" Moomin manages to sidle along the narrow path enough to catch sight of his Mumrik's face. Eyes, staring completely blankly ahead, frantically watching something that isn't there, expression otherwise completely empty.

"Snufkin!!" Moomin cries, forcing his way in front of him. He lifts a hand to try and snap, hoping the noise will bring him back down to earth, when the world slows.

There are moments in life when so many things happen in such rapid succession, that for just a moment the delicate perception that is time breaks. Not very much, and not very long, as these things are very good at keeping themselves in proper order - but for just a moment or two, the mind races beyond reason, and everything becomes so clear that the moment that elastic time snaps back in place, the picture blurs. This is one of those moments. Things occur in roughly this order, as best as anyone can parse it:

Moomin shifts his weight back and, without any help from the poor troll, Snufkin comes back to reality. His eyes widen and pupils narrow in a manner very rarely seen from him. Snufkin reaches forward, shooting both hands ahead with a hunter's instinct, and grabs hold of Moomintroll by the fur. His claws, quite without his permission or knowledge, start to dig their way dangerously far into the thick fluff covering all Moomins. Roughly one second after he gets a grip, the ground where Moomin is stepping decides it might be fun to join the rest of the ground down at the bottom of the mountain. Just as the first pebbles run away, Snufkin spins on his heel, rather forcefully bringing Moomin around back down the path and well away from the newly mobile portion of mountain.

And then time snaps back.

Moomin doesn't so much lose his balance as continue to not have it, and stumbles backwards down the path. He painfully drags Snufkin, still very much attached to him by the claws, down with him and falls squarely on his rump. He blinks in shock as he watches the ground he was about to stand on disappear off the side of the mountain and, by the sound of things, make very good progress towards the bottom very fast.

"Oh. _Shit._ " Moomintroll mutters. "Ah! Right, sorry, Snuf- _OW_." The frantic moment passed, the feeling of very narrow, very sharp claws tangled deep in his fur hits him. He looks down to try and help untangle them.

"ss…sorry… y'okay?" Snufkin manages to mumble out. He looks utterly dazed, and more than a little shaken. Moomin startles and quickly checks him over, but can’t find any sign that he got hurt during the whole affair. All he finds is his hat getting crushed under their legs.

"Oh dear… come on, let's - uhm - let's get you home to mamma! She'll know what to do!"

Moomin half-carries Snufkin back down the mountain, trying to figure out what on earth just happened. He's very, very rarely seen his Snufkin look that terrified and focused, and even more rarely seen him completely zone out! And for that matter, he knows his reflexes are impressive, but if he didn't know better, blurred as the memory already is, he could swear Snufkin started pulling him before the ground was about to crumble. Had he noticed something, and that was why he stopped? No, he wasn't looking at the ground, and he would have said something…

Moomin's snapped out of his ponderings by the very man in question pulling away to look around. He whips back to look at Moomin, visibly confused. He seems like he wants to say a lot of things, but all he manages to hiss out is

_"What the hell just happened."_


	2. Chapter 2

" _What the hell just happened._ "

Moomin blinks back at Snufkin. He can’t believe it- Snufkin just _swore._ Wait - more importantly -

"That's what I was going to ask _you_!! What happened to you back there!?" Moomin squeaks.

"I - I don't _know_?? That's never happened before!"

" _What's_ never happened?"

"I think…" Snufkin stammers and grips the brim of his hat. "I think I just predicted the future?"

Moomin's not completely sure how to respond to that. Chances are, you wouldn't know much better. A lot of strange things happen in Moominvalley, from Grokes to Hobgoblins to witches, but Moomin and his friends, none of _them_ have ever been magic before. And that's what it would have to be, wouldn't it? Magic?

"What do you mean? What happened?"

Snufkin's mind races, and he struggles for the words to explain everything he felt and… saw. Strange things happen in Moominvalley, but even more strange things happen outside of it. Things Snufkin's seen, or at least heard of. A life surrounded by every mystery of nature has left him very open to the idea of superstitions and magics of all kinds. He never realized how hard it must have been to find a way to tell those stories for the person who lived them before.

"It was… like a pressure? Like -" he reaches for Moomin's arm and squeezes it, gently. "Like that. But… from the inside? And-and a sound, but not a sound, like a buzzy-hum, like a florescent light - wait, you don't have those here - I'm sorry, I'm not making any sense."

"Shh, no, no, it's fine!" Moomin soothes in his best imitation of Moominmamma. He really isn't making any sense, but it's better he tries than just gives up. "Take your time. I'm listening."

Snufkin nods and takes a deep breath. "Okay. Alright. It was like a noise, but not one I heard, one I felt. Does that make sense?"

"You mean… like when Snork's engines go wild, and you can feel it rumbling even if you can't hear it?"

"YES! Yes, kind of like an engine! I hate those things. So very loud for so little reason. Where do people need to get in such a hurry that they have to make so much noise and smoke to get there?"

Moomin blinks at him. Snuf's not usually this… roundabout. That's _his_ job. "So you… heard it but felt it, pushing but from the inside? And then what?"

"Oh, uh… I.. I don't know. I could just tell something bad was coming, so I stopped. But…" He looks up, straight down the path, staring at nothing again. "But you didn't. You didn't stop. And the road broke, and fell down, and you fell with it. I couldn't do anything." He breathes out the words like he doesn't want to say them. That peculiar, breathy tone of a bad memory that refuses to stay bottled up. The kind of tone that can break into sobs or silence someone completely at any second.

"But I didn't!" Moomintroll points out, putting his hand on Snufkin's arm as if he can pull him back down to earth. "That didn't happen at all!"

"But it almost did!" He cries, whipping around to look Moomin in the eyes. "You did keep walking! You were gone, and then you were there again, and I - I couldn't let it happen again - or for the first time? I don't know!"

It still doesn't make much sense, but sense can wait. Snufkin is visibly upset, and now Moomin needs to do something, and not let this happen again. He's only seen Snufkin this heartbroken once, a long time ago, staring over an empty sea, and he can't let him break like that again. Moomin pulls him into a deep hug, and settles them both gently to the ground. "It's okay now…" he nuzzles into Snufkin's hair and keeps his voice low. "It's okay, we're both okay. We'll figure this out together, but for now, just remember we're both safe."

Snufkin is not a cuddly person. He avoids most physical contact with most everyone, and he certainly has never enjoyed being held. But today… today he holds on. Today he wraps his arms around his Moomintroll and buries his face in his fur, and just lets himself get lost in the softness for a moment. He hadn't realized just how much the whole affair had bothered him - it seems silly, being this upset over things that never really happened. But it was much harder to tell hearts what to feel than to get Snufkins to accept hugs.

"Come on, Snuf. Let's get you home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but one I felt very necessary. More characters will start showing up next chapter, so look forward to that! Thank you so much to all the comments and kudos on the first chapter- I hope you continue to enjoy the series.


	3. Chapter 3

It's a peaceful day in Moominhouse. The children are all out playing under the summer sun, Moominmmama has settled onto the couch with some sewing, and Moominpappa sits in the armchair to take a break from writing with some reading. Moominmamma's ears twitch, and she looks up from the shirt she's working on, glancing out the window. She sticks her needle in the arm of the couch - a terrible habit, she reminds herself, that she really must stop - and sets her work aside to stand and dust herself off. She calmly walks toward the kitchen, but pauses to give her husband a quick kiss on the head.

"The children will be back in soon. I'm getting them some lemonade, would you like any?"

Moominpappa grunts. "Yes, thank you Mamma." She nods and walks back into the kitchen. "Say," Pappa calls after her, "Which ones are coming back?"

"Oh, how should I know, dear? I'm not psychic."

Psychic, no, but almost always right, as no sooner has she gotten the pitcher out of the icebox and set some glasses on the tray than the door to the house swings open with a thud. She turns to listen and can hear Moomin talking rather too loudly for indoors. She doesn't, however, hear Little My being even louder, so it must just be him and Snufkin. Two glasses it is - plus Pappa's, of course.

Out in the living room, Snufkin has his arm still hooked around Moomin's while he rushes them into the house.

"Pappa, where's Mamma? We need her right away!"

"Hm? Did one of you get hurt?" He looks up from his book with his snout wrinkled with worry.

"Oh, no, we're fine. We're fine." He repeats at Snufkin, who simply raises an eyebrow in response.

Moominpappa taps the cover of his book. Keeping secrets, are they? As is well within their right, but he hopes they aren't hiding anything too serious. His son looks alright, if a bit dirty, but Snufkin's expression isn't as even as it usually is - something's bothering him, but he can’t tell what or how. He's saved from asking any embarrassing questions by the timely arrival of Moominmamma and her tray of lemonade.

"I'm right here, dears. What seems to be the matter?" She asks as she passes out the drinks.

"We need Granny's book. Something weird's going on, and we were hoping she might have known something that could help." Moomin explains while Snufkin nods.

Oh, now _that's_ interesting… she uses Granny's books for all sorts of things, but her family only ever seems to ask when they need guidance on matters they can't explain for themselves. She wants to pry, to ask all sorts of detailed questions, but she holds herself back. Instead, Moominmamma simply hums her agreement and gestures for them to follow her to recover the book they need. They'll talk when they're ready. She sets the tray down in the kitchen before heading down into the basement, to a simple shelf out of the way with a set of old books on them. She easily picks out the one in question - a volume of Granny's remedies for ailments and issues of all sorts, mainly supernatural. She then leaves them to their hunting.

Moomin starts flipping through the pages, skimming titles as quickly as he can. "Let's see… seeing omens?"

"No, no." Snufkin mutters, "Omens are different. I know about omens. Omens are easy."

"Okay, uhhh… hearing the thoughts of a loved one? Weird. Worries for the future… ensuring a certain future - have to remember that one. Seeing bits of the past."

" _It goes both ways!?_ "

"No! Wait… maybe?" Moomin skims the page for anything that seems like what Snufkin described on the mountain. "Oh, wait, this says it happens in dreams. They might be linked though, do you dream about things that happened a long time ago?"

Snufkin sighs in relief. "Nope. Keep looking."

"Mmhmm. Let's see… hearing the voices of your ancestors… chronological displacement- Granny, what the hell?"

"Language. Granny sounds like a fascinating Moomin! Where on earth did she learn about all this?"

"She sure does! I wonder how much of it happened to _her_! Oh - here we go! What to do when struck with visions of things to come!"

Snufkin perks up, practically climbing over Moomintroll to read the page. "Really!? What does it say??"

"'Some creatures can see bits of possible futures, often in the form of advice or warnings. They can range from vague feelings to full visions of things to come. Your instincts mean you no harm, be patient. They will pass.'"

"…"

"…"

"THAT DOESN'T HELP AT ALL!"

"Ugh, we should have just talked to Mamma first. Even if she didn't know anything, she'd try. You didn't even try, Granny. Back on your shelf you go." Moomin slaps the book shut and slips it neatly back on its shelf. "Are you okay with us talking about this with Mamma and Pappa? If you're not ready, we can keep looking for something else-"

"No, it's fine." Snufkin moves to climb out of the basement. "I don't think they'll know anything more helpful, but I don't mind them knowing."

While they climb back up into the kitchen and go to sit down and talk to Moomin's parents, they both brace themselves to try and explain the unexplainable. As Snufkin gives a brief summary of events and tries to make himself clearer this time, they don’t know quite what to expect. Both of the Moomin parents are understandably concerned by the descriptions of what almost became their son, and quite thankful that Snufkin was there and able to protect him. But of what little expectations either Moomin or Mumrik had for the response…

It _definitely_ wasn't Moominmamma nodding sagely, or Moominpappa being better able to describe the things Snufkin felt better than he could.

"Wait…" Snufkin says slowly, carefully, "you two… know what's going on? With all this?"

"Ah, well, not exactly, dear." Moominmamma amends. "We've seen something similar. More Pappa than myself, of course. Though I don't believe you've ever mentioned any kind of visions, have you?"

Moominpappa taps his pipe thoughtfully. "No, I haven't. The forebodings are very familiar, however."

"Forebodings?" Snufkin asks.

"That's what an old friend of mine always called them, anyways. I'm afraid I don't know much about these things - but I know someone who does. I'll write him and ask him to come talk to you, alright Snufkin?"

Snufkin nods, suddenly lost for words. He's not sure what else to ask. He's less sure it would do any good if he did.

"Don't worry about it too much, dear," Moominmamma coos, "such mysteries are the way of life, you know. Why don't you two go find something to distract yourselves - last I heard, Little My and Snorkmaiden were heading to the meadows. Maybe some flower picking will settle your mind?"

The two silently agree, and head off. Maybe not towards the meadows, but toward something less troubling than the mountains at least. Perhaps simply to go fishing for a while. But back in the house, Moominmamma and Moominpappa simply look at each other.

"Seems I have quite a letter to write. Thank goodness I actually have any idea where to _send_ it this time." Moominpappa huffs around his pipe while he digs for an emergency stash of papers and pens.

_"My dear old friend,_

_I know it is your nature to be vague about you travels, and you refused to say for certain if you'd make it back to the valley for the midsummer bonfire this year. However, I must ask you go against nature this one time. You really must come - if not for the party, at the very least to offer some insight on your insights. Forget the naps and hurry for once in your life, please. Your son needs you._

_With due respect and no more, your friend_

_~Moominpappa"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I love Moominmamma. She's a delightful woman with the most subtle edge to her. And not falling far from the tree, I have Thoughts on what the Moomin Family's mysterious yet seemingly omniscient Granny must have been like. I bet as much as Moominpappa exaggerates his tales, Granny downplays them. "Ah, yes, I won a staring contest with a cockatrice - but have tried this pie? Took me forever to get that one right, haha!"  
> I don’t even now why I'm being coy about who Moominpappa's writing to. We know. We all know. I tagged him, for goodness' sake.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few hot, summer days pass without much incident in the peaceful Moominvalley. Sniff gets in trouble for selling mysterious white vegetables that happen to look exactly like a Hemulen's head to unsuspecting Hemulens. They weren't amused to find out the were just squash he'd painted white, and even less when he expressly pointed out that they all looked someone what like gourds. Little My gets in trouble with the local police for an elaborate system of snare traps that managed to wrap up the poor Mail Hemulen like a spider's web for four hours straight before anyone could safely extract him. In short, it's Tuesday.

Snufkin hasn't had any further visions or "forebodings" since the mountain. Likely in part because he's been bringing Moomin on the safest possible activities possible around the valley these past days. He brings him fishing on the river, picking flowers in the fields, picking berries and helping tend Moominmamma's garden. He'd be lying to himself if he said it wasn't a little boring, and he's getting a little restless, but it keeps Moomin safe, and that's all that matters. But today, Moomintroll has convinced Snufkin out on a hike - as much as wandering around well-traveled woods can truly be called a hike. The interwoven branches and overlapping leaves filter the sunlight a gentle green while the wind plays among them. The low rustling sooths Snufkin's frayed nerves as he takes in the familiar sights and sounds. The towering trees and low, humble bushes greet him like old friends. It's quiet back here. No one talking, no walls closing the soft breeze off, the only out of place sound is Moomintroll's heavy footfalls thudding next to him. But that's not really out of place for him anymore. They belong there as much as any birdsong. The faint edges of his scent Snufkin can catch make sense with the hot, green smell of summer. This is right. This is alright.

Moomin looks Snufkin over out the corner of his eye. Some of that weight he's seemed to carry everywhere the last few days looks to be melting away. He tries not to be tot obvious about how much it cheers him, but seeing Snufkin finally let himself breathe, he can't hold back the smile that spreads across his face. He understands why he's been acting this way - but that doesn't make it any easier to handle his cool, collected companion suddenly being consumed by anxiety. He lets out a deep sigh and leans against Snufkin's shoulder while they walk. He catches a glimpse of Snufkin's surprised glance, but he makes no effort to pull away, so they settle into a comfortable, slow pace.

"You know," Moomin says quietly, "we never _did_ decide what fruit you were. Doesn't seem very fair I get to be a peach and you don't get to be anything."

Snufkin stops and blinks at him. For a moment, Moomin's heart races - did he mess this up? Oh no, he shouldn't have mentioned anything from that day - he ruined everything! But Snufkin just pulls his hat down over his face and starts laughing. It doesn't do much good, seeing as Moomin is still right on his shoulder, so all he manages to do is cover both their faces, but that doesn't seem to matter to him. When he stops long enough to look at Moomin (rather catching the poor boy off guard, as he'd been distracted watching Snufkin laugh and didn't expect him to turn to him yet) he smiles sweeter than the best of Moominmamma's cakes.

"Well of course not, you shot down my kiwi idea. What about lime?" He purrs.

"Ehh, no - too bitter."

"Bitter?"

"Yeah."

"Limes aren't bitter, they're sour-sweet."

"No, they're definitely bitter."

"I don't think your limes were ripe, Moomie… what about avocado?"

"Are those even fruit?"

"Technically. Watermelon?"

"Stop just listing off green things! That's cheating!" Moomin snorts.

Snufkin gives him a low snicker but does pause to think about it. "Apple?"

Moomin mulls it over. Apples, hm? They're versatile, you can do all sorts of things with an apple. That fits. They're sturdy - sure, they can bruise, but a barrel of apples can last for ages if you store them right. That fits. Moomin nods. "Yes… yeah, I think you're definitely an apple."

Snufkin hums in agreement, strolling easily along the wooded path. It's so peaceful, it takes Moomin just a second too long to catch the mischievous look in his eye.

"A green apple."

"OH- _YOU_." Moomin chides him with a playful slap from his tail. Snufkin laughs as the impact sets his hat off center. Moomin huffs, but amusement glints in his eyes even as he lashes his tail.

"You really didn't see that coming?" Snufkin chuckles, "It was _right there_!"

"Really, Moomin, you ought to pay better attention. You made it too easy."

The boys look up to spot Too-Ticky strolling just as calmly up the path, still a good distance away, but the woman was famed for listening well, so it was little surprise she had caught them. More surprising was that Snufkin didn't hear her coming, until he looked down and saw bare padded black paws. Ah, that would help, yes.

"Too-Ticky!" Moomin calls, excited. "I didn't know you were in the valley! We never see you in the summer! Oh - are you who Moominpappa was asking to come help?"

Too-Ticky tilts her head, coming closer to look them both over carefully. "No, he didn't ask me for help with anything. I got an invitation to your parent's bonfire. I wasn't too far, so I figured I'd stop by for the party. Ninny'll be coming by too, but she's coming with your family," she says, nodding at Snufkin, "so goodness knows they'll be rolling in at the very last minute. She told me to tell all you Moomins 'hello' for her. But what's this about you needing help? Is everyone alright?"

Snufkin tugs his hat with a low groan. Moomin glances up at him sheepishly. "We're all fine, sorry about that. Just something confusing happening that Pappa said he knew someone more familiar with. I didn't know if maybe you'd talked with him about it at one point." Moomin slaps a paw to his face, groaning "Buuuut I just remembered he said he'd write _him_ , so it couldn't have been you. Dang it, Moomintroll…"

Too-Ticky puts a paw on each of their shoulders. "Don't worry about it, I won't say a thing. I may not be who he was hoping for, but I can try to help if you want. If not, I could always walk away right now, meet you at Moominhouse, and pretend I never even saw you." She says with a wink.

Snufkin and Moomin look at each other. Snufkin gives a casual shrug that is clearly meant as a not-remotely-casual "I don't know anything about this person, but you've already given away that something's up, and I don't know what to do from here, please fix this." In response Moomin nods toward her not-very-subtly replying "Okay, I messed up, but she's better than nothing, so maybe at least give it a shot?" Snufkin sighs.

"Alright, well… Too-Ticky, was it? I've heard about you, it's nice to meet you. I would be the one needing some… advice. If you don't mind."

She nods sagely. "Aye, you look like something's eating you. Can't promise I can fix whatever it is," she sits down right on the path and pats the ground in front of her, "but I can promise to listen. Go right ahead."

The trio sit on the shaded path while Snufkin tries once again to explain what happened on the mountain. He struggles to get a read on the strange woman sitting across from him through the story. She just sits, watching him with a gentle neutrality, not betraying any sign of surprise. For all he knows, none of this seems all that strange to her. When he finishes describing the so-called "forebodings" as best he can, she stares up at the sky for a thoughtful moment.

"That does sound terribly alarming for you, I'm sorry. I don't know how you feel, but I always found uncertainty to be reassuring." She looks back down to lock eyes with him, and Snufkin can’t seem to find it in himself to look away. "That kind of knowledge must be very off-putting."

Snufkin straightens his hat nervously. "So… you don't know anything about this, do you?"

"M'fraid not, Snufkin. Not this specifically. But the things you read in Moomingranny's book weren't wrong. You shouldn't be so quick to dismiss them."

"What do you mean?" Moomin asks.

Too-Ticky leans back, holding herself up with an arm behind her. "How to explain… it's really not as uncommon as you think to feel things like this. Most everyone has a very strong sense or two. Some of us simply have a sense for something your other five can't find. It only seems rare because people stopped talking about it long enough that we've forgotten it's still real."

"But that all sounds like magic to me." Moomin says, wrinkling his snout with confusion. "I thought magic was rare?"

"If you ask me, Moomintroll, everyone's a little magic. The big question is if you realize it."

Snufkin tilts his head. "Do you? Have another sense, I mean?"

"Suppose I do. I'm very good at winding up exactly where I'm most needed." She says with a pointed wink.

They sit and ponder this for a little bit, the singing of a nearby bird emphasizing the silence between them.

"Well," Snufkin finally says, "that still doesn't answer any questions, or make it all any less strange to me. But it does make it a little less frightening, I suppose. Thank you."

She gives him a curt nod before standing back off and dusting herself off. "I feel my work here is done. I'll see you lot back at the house, I'm sure. I'm glad I could help you a little. But don't worry," Too-Ticky continues her way down the path, calling over her shoulder, "more help will be here soon."

Snufkin and Moomin watch her fade away into the woods, red stripes more obscured by thick, green plants every minute.

"I like her."

"You know, I always figured you would." Moomin replies and stands. "Shall we continue?"

"I suppose we shall. It's about time to move on." Snufkin offers an arm to Moomintroll, which he readily takes. Moomin cheerfully follows Snufkin's lead straight off the path and deep into the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really apologize to everyone who's waiting for Joxter to show up- but it's Too-Ticky Time! I love her so much, she HAD to have some screen time. But fret not, you'll get your catdad fix very soon.  
> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments- every single one really brightens my day!


	5. Chapter 5

The forest is verdant green and, while not exactly quiet, a very natural and peaceful kind of noisy. Moomintroll and Snufkin have been enjoying this noisy peace for the last several hours, wandering through the dense untamed underbrush buried far from any pathway. They've shared short bursts of teasing banter in between long stretches of comfortable silence, content to stand close to each other and eavesdrop on the numerous birds having far more interesting conversations above them. Most recently, they've delighted in a very very large berry bramble, buried beyond where people had, until them, managed to find and pillage. They take Snufkin's coat-dress and use the sleeves to tie off the neck of the old green garment so they can use it as a sort of makeshift sack and carry home as many berries as they find reasonable to take. Moomin chatters along their way back toward the road about the sweet jams, pies, and cakes Moominmamma will undoubtedly make with such a harvest. Snufkin nods along cheerfully, reminding himself to stop by the house tomorrow to indulge in some fresh pancakes topped with berries - and maybe even ask if he can trade her for a jar of the jam to bring with him on his travels. He's pondering Moominmamma's wonderful handiwork when everything begins to feel a bit... off. The air feels heavier, but not quite like when a storm is coming. Like when a thing is coming. It feels like something crackles through the air around him, a sense of… foreboding. Snufkin grabs Moomin's arm, drawing them both to a dead halt.

Moomin stops mid-sentence. He catches the look in Snufkin's eyes - distant yet focused, and undeniably rattled - and not a word need be said. He instead draws closer, ears swiveling every which way while he listens closely to the sounds of the forest; listens for anything that shouldn't be there. The wind plays through the leaves with a gentle shuffing. Something rustles through the grasses and pine needles a few feet off, but far too small to be any threat - most likely a wild mouse, or lizard of some kind. He resists the urge to huff his annoyance, instead closing his eyes and listening closer. Wind. Leaves. Light squeaks - definitely a mouse. His heart thudding in his ears (block it out, block it out!) There \- high above and a little ways off, a branch creaks under the weight of something definitely bigger than a bird - or at least, bigger than any bird that should be in Moominvalley. Moomin's eyes snap open, trained on the cluster of branches in question. He grab's Snufkin's paw and attention. Out the corner of his eye he sees him look at him, confused, but refuses to break his watch on the trees. But Snufkin seems to get the idea, as he also turns his gaze to the trees. Before either can make anything out of the shadows and leaves, they rustle and shake, whatever it is hiding in them running across the treetops, getting closer to their path every second. Moomin takes his grip on Snufkin's paw and tries to pull him back, out of the way, realizing only a moment too late that Snufkin's paw, still on his arm, is trying to do the same thing, locking them both in an awkward mutual grapple and not going much of anywhere.

Bursting from the branches in a shower of leaves, something dark, green and red, lands easily on the ground directly in front of them. Moomin's heart pounds in his ears as it straightens up on its hind legs and lifts a dark, clawed paw to move its blood red hat out of its face. Next to him he hears a low, rumbling growl come from his Snufkin.

" _REALLY??_ Do you have to do this _every time!?_ " Snufkin snarls, slapping his free paw to his forehead.

The Joxter snickers at them. He offers a teasing grin. "Of course I do, kit." he replies easily, a voice so much like Snufkin's but with a rough, breathy quality like an old ghost. "Your reactions are priceless! The Valley makes you soft, doesn't it? You should have noticed me much sooner." He finally turns his gaze to Moomin, who is almost dizzy with emotional whiplash. "As for _you,_ Moominkit… I'm impressed - your father never once could hear me approaching. You're a sharp one!"

Snufkin sighs, dragging his paw down his face. "Please tell me you didn't come all this way just to scare my friends."

"Of course not!" Joxter near silently paces a lazy circle around the two that Snufkin pointedly refuses to follow. "I got a letter from dear old Moomin asking me to come over."

Snufkin tilts his head at Moomintroll, who shrugs. "Ah, right, sorry. Moominpappa." Joxter mutters behind them. Moomin watches him easily slip his hand into their makeshift bag and grab a handful of berries. "So strange, you Moomins, changing your name for every stage of your life. Such is your nature, I suppose. He asked me to make sure I got here for the midsummer bonfire because you needed help with something." He paces back around to the front, popping a stolen berry into his mouth and earning a wonderful series of expressions from his son as he realizes what just happened.

Snufkin shifts a tighter grip on his coat-dress. "So when Moominpappa said he knew someone who could help, he was calling… you? Why be so cryptic about sending me to talk to my own father?"

"Ugh… Pappa and his dramatics… probably just wanted to set up a grand entrance." Moomin groans. "What is it with him and unnecessarily grand entrances?"

Joxter shrugs. "Must be a writer thing."

"So," Snufkin asks, "you have these… senses? This weird sense for the future?"

"Oh, the Forebodings! Yes, I do. Is that what this is about? Why didn't you ask sooner?"

"Because it just started. I had no idea these 'Forebodings' were going to happen."

Joxter blinks at him. " _Huh_. Interesting… When was the first one?"

"Almost a week ago?"

"Is that your most recent one too?" He tilts his head.

"No, you triggered one too with all your creeping around."

Joxter's head whips up, and for just a moment, something flashes across his face. Something almost hurt. Quickly as it appears, it vanishes, replaced by his usual neutrality. "I see… wonder why it took so long. Usually they'd start much younger. You're a strange one, kit." Joxter reaches out again to try and grab a handful of berries from their stash, but Snufkin pulls the coat-dress full of fruit out of reach and glares at his father.

"Oh, come now. You picked these out here - what ever happened to the forest belonging to everyone?" He asks somewhere between a tease and a whine.

"The forest still belongs to everyone, you are more than welcome to go pick your own berries." Snufkin chides, "But the contents of my clothing is for myself and Moomintroll alone, thank you very much."

Joxter's eyebrows shoot up as a slow, wide grin spreads across his face. And he waits. Snufkin narrows his eyes at him, staring, confused. Realization hits Snufkin like a train, letting out a choked sort of indignant screech. He lunges forward and slaps Joxter's shoulder while the man bursts out cackling. Poor Moomin stares on, completely lost, and more than a little concerned.

"Hey, uhm… not to interrupt?" Moomin chirps over the two Mumriks' noise. "It's going to get dark soon, and you two may be able to see after dark, but I sure can't. Maybe we should get back to the house?"

Snufkin looks over from where he currently appears to be trying to smother his father with his own hat. "Ah, yes, of course. Let's go, Moomintroll." He lets the hat go to come start guiding Moomin back toward Moominhouse.

"Hey!" Joxter calls, "Forgetting someone, are we? Aren't you going to invite me over?"

"We both know the last thing you want is to be invited. You want nothing more than for Moominpappa to start locking the doors again." Snufkin says.

Joxter hums, mulling it over. "…You're absolutely right. Thanks for the lack of invitation, I'll meet you there." And with that he climbs the nearest tree, vanishing once again into the forest.

They watch the trees for a little while, waiting for the branches to stop shaking and show that he's left.

"Wow." Moomin whispers.

"Yep."

"I really thought you were exaggerating."

"Nope."

They trudge down the path, berries in tow, and enjoy the silence of the forest again. It's a wonderfully peaceful scene; the kind one could spend hours simply drifting away and enjoying getting lost in. But Moomin can't resist breaking the silence one last time.

"Alright, but _Moominkit?_ Why _Moominkit_ \- what's going on there?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyyyy he's here! Favorite brand of Joxter: super chill prankster 24/7 but still vaguely unnerving. Spooky lil catman.  
> OOF it's been a WHILE. Sorry for the wait- and sorry in advanced for the wait for the next chapter, cause cha'boy's moving in like a week, so goodbye fic time for the next few weeks. Thank you all so much for the comments and kudos, every single one means so much to me! Till next time, stay frosty~!


	6. Chapter 6

When Moomin and Snufkin show back up at Moominhouse with a garment full of berries and a Joxter looming over their shoulders, Moominpappa gives his former companion an appraising look. Moominmamma emerges from the kitchen and spots their old friend with a delighted cry and a tight hug. When she spots the berry haul, she grabs a large nearby vase a dumps the contents out of the window it's under, proceeding to transfer the fruit out of Snufkin's clothes and into the kitchen.

"Very good, boys," she says, "these will make some lovely tarts, and I'd wager we'll have enough left for a small batch of preserves for later! Just don't come trying to sneak one before dinner." She adds, giving Joxter a conspiratorial wink. She wins an amused grin from the man in question on her way out.

"How in the world did _you_ manage to win over such a wonderful woman, Moomin?" He snickers.

"I have no idea." Moominpappa sighs. He straightens his hat, turning his attention to the Joxter. "And how have you been, old friend? I see I was right that you'd be with Mymble. How is she these days?"

"Alas, have I become so predictable? I must be losing my touch." He flops backward across Moominpappa's armchair, lounging across the arms. "She's doing great. Head in the clouds, legs buried in a mountain of children - same as ever, and as happy as ever. It's, ah..." His easy grin becomes strained as he stares into the middle distance. "It's very loud there. I adore the lil brats, but his is a nice break. And they'll be here soon anyways."

Moominpappa comes and sits on the couch near Joxter's head to settle into conversation and catch up. Snufkin and Moomin take their cue to give the two some space, and retreat onto the porch. They watch the sky as they lounge on the railing. Moomin's ear twitches at the distant sound of yelling.

"My's on her way. Snorkmaiden's probably with her." He mutters.

Snufkin sits up a little and looks out over the yard. He looks back to Moomintroll with an impressed smile. "You're getting really good at that. You've got a good ear."

"Two of em." He winks, wiggling them both. He grins as Snufkin ducks behind his hat with a snort. "Too-Ticky once told me to listen very carefully, just in case someone needed help. I'm just doing my best."

"It's a little more than that, Moomie. I can't even always hear my father when he's being sneaky. If all you have to do is listen, I don't think you'll have any trouble." Snufkin pulls out his mouth organ and straightens up to a better position before tapping the instrument against his palm. He takes a deep breath and starts to play a familiar tune. A song he wrote a few years back for Moomin. Moomintroll glances over with a smile and starts singing along.

_"All small beasts should have bows in their tails,_

_Or they'll find themselves locked in Hemulen jails._

_If you make a mistake, get ready to pay-"_

_"You can't blame another and then run away!"_ Snorkmaiden and Little My harmonize. At least, Snorkmaiden harmonizes very nicely while My screams the words from on top of the snork's head.

Snufkin stops his playing to look over the scene. "Does _everyone_ know that song by now? I don't recall singing it to any of you."

"How could we not?" My whines. "Moomin sings it all the time when you're gone!"

"Little My!" Snorkmaiden giggles.

"I swear, you're barely gone an hour before he starts howling that silly little tune-"

"My, shush! You're embarrassing him!"

"Which one?"

"Both!!"

Moomin has curled over, his face pink and buried in his knees. Snufkin sits gripping the brim of his hat tightly over his face, his tightening paws threatening to claw the poor old thing to shreds. The girls share a laugh at their poor boys' expenses on their way into the house, Snorkmaiden barely choking out an unconvincing "sorry" between giggles. Once he hears the door snap shut, Snufkin emerges from his hat with a groan.

"I think Little My's proving a bad influence on our dear, sweet snork."

"Not as much as you think," Moomin huffs, "she's always had a vicious streak. She's just less subtle when she plays good cop to My."

"What are we ever going to do with those two?"

"Stay well out of their way, Snuf. Stay well out of their way."

They sink into soft music and good company over the following hours, content to let people come and go from the house while they play the day away. The Moomin house settles on the porch for dinner, such a pleasant evening it's proving to be out. After dinner and a little idle conversation, Joxter climbs over the porch railing, and strolls straight to Snufkin's campsite across the bridge without a word. Snufkin lets out a low, annoyed growl, but lowers himself off the porch to follow.

"You know, my boy," Moominpappa offers, "if he bothers you too much, you can always send him back here. I'll lock the doors, you just tell him he can't get in and he'll leave you be."

"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back!! Turns out moving AND starting up studies in a completely new college takes a lot of time and mental energy, but I'm eager to get back to this world. Unfortunately, that means a very very short chapter for now until I'm drowning in schoolwork a little less.  
> I mostly use Moominvalley (2019) canon (I write with those voices in mind), but it's my fic, I'm going to insert other Moomin media (Moomedia) canons as pleases me- and dang it, Snufkin writing All Small Beasts Should Have Bows in Their Tails for Moomin is exactly the kind of thing I'm not about to leave out.  
> I like to think Joxter is absolutely delighted by Moominmamma as a partner in crime first and foremost. Moominpappa may have fallen in love with her, but Joxter landed in a few jail cells with her. We don't know much about Moominamma's past- the one time she talks about it, she supplies three versions of the same story and never says which one's true. But given she's such a firecracker of a woman as we know her, and while Moominpappa fancies himself an adventurer but prefers a lot of creature comforts, on the other paw we have Moominmamma over here being ready and able to drop everything and just Survive with grace and skill at any second, I imagine her having been even more adventurous than her husband was before they settled down in the valley. Pappa can talk a big talk, but Mamma can walk that walk without needing to say a word. And that's just the kind of personality Joxter never gets tired of. Maybe I'll do another fic for Moominmamma's wild youth someday. But for now, father and son have some talking to do…. to say the very least.


	7. Chapter 7

Snufkin stares at his campsite from the bridge connecting his little patch of woods to the open fields around Moominhouse. Joxter already lays sprawled across the fallen log by his campfire - also, it would appear, he took it upon himself to go ahead and start up Snufkin's fire. It'd almost be… courteous? Something approaching helpful even, if he didn't reach into his pocket and - yep, yeah, his matches are gone. He gives a weary sigh, and walks into his camp. He plops himself on the ground across from the log and waits. Joxter stretches and rolls over on the log, blinking slowly at him with a casual grin across his face.

"Well, Snufkin, I believe you had questions? Feel free to ask all you want, but don't count on me to have the answers you want." He speaks almost teasingly, like this whole conversation is just a way to amuse himself for a moment.

Snufkin gives a low, bitter laugh. "Never do." he mutters. "These visions- the, uh…"

"Forebodings."

"Forebodings. What… exactly are they?"

"Mmm, getting right to the point, hm?" he hums, "Well, to put it simply, they're like… warnings. Most people have a little bit of an intuition - that itching up your back, or rumbling in your head that tells you something's there that you can't see, or hear, or smell; something that's hidden enough it might be dangerous. Some of us just have much stronger senses than others. Mumriks can smell much more than most, your little Moominfriend would seem to hear like no one I've seen before - and you and I, my boy, have a very strong sense for the unsense-able. That's really all there is to it." He finishes as though explaining something very simple to a child.

"But that's all a feeling - I _saw_ things - why did I _see_ things?"

"Visions are much rarer, true. I don't know exactly how it works, but there must have been a danger big enough it took over more senses. Or it was more intense than normal because you hadn't felt that kind of thing before - I hear the first time's always the strongest."

"The first one, right. You thought it was weird it started so recently. Why's that?"

Joxter nods sagely, bouncing his leg calmly as he thinks. "Well, you see, most people I've met or heard of having this kind of sense start off pretty young. Early teens, or younger if they rely on their senses a lot like tramps like us do."

_Most people_ , he kept saying. Most people he knows that have this. Snufkin picks at his shirt sleeve bitterly. He always knew this was a thing that might happen - he knew other people who had these "forebodings," and he kept it all to himself, all this time.

"Why didn't you mention something before?" Snufkin demands. He'd done fine his whole life figuring things out on his own. He was used to going into things blindly and finding his own way through it. But that was when he didn't know he had parents out there - parents that could have helped him along if he'd known where to find them, at least. But he knew now. And they knew he was out here. If there was any advice he could have used from his freshly found family, this was it! But he'd still been left to deal with it, not a word of warning or instruction! "All the times you've snuck up on me to talk when our paths crossed these days, and you never once thought to mention that we have a _sixth sense_?"

Joxter's tail lashes low to the ground, and his leg bounces faster and faster. In the experience of anyone who'd known him, The Joxter had two modes: amused and indifferent. But now he looked… almost ashamed. He tugs the brim of his hat sheepishly - an all too familiar nervous habit - and avoids looking his son in the eye. "I'm… sorry. That was an oversight. I didn't ever consider it might be… genetic."

Now, that was hardly a satisfactory answer.

"But I don't understand! If these… _forebodings_ are something that just comes naturally to us, then why didn't I ever have any before? To be blunt, Joxter, I haven't exactly been the safest beast in the world! It's dangerous out there on your own, and I know that. So why now?"

"Well that's very simple, kit." Joxter sits up, lighting his pipe and taking a few short puffs, staring into the fire. "You haven't had anything to lose before." He tilts his head up to give Snufkin a sympathetic look. "It's quite a miserable existence, isn't it? That protective _need_. Such an awful little thing to make such a big fuss."

Snufkin stares at him in utter disbelief. He struggles to find the words to convey how absurd, how cryptic, how confusing, how a million other things his father's so-called 'advice' is.

"What… are you _talking_ about!?"

"You're here, aren't you?"

"I… yes??"

"So," he points with his pipe, "clearly everything that happened until now, no matter how dangerous it seemed, was something you could handle. Maybe with a few wounds, but what do a few cuts and bruises matter to the boundless expanses of time? You can break an arm many times. Dying…" he shrugs, "that, one can only do the once, I'm afraid."

"So… I didn't get any forebodings because… I was never about to die?"

"Basically. Of course, that's only half the equation. You might not always catch on to the dangers for yourself. As you've noticed. It does have to be something very serious to draw your attention to the bad way your own choices take you, doesn't it. But one always seems to look out much better for other people than for ourselves." Joxter states. He tamps out his pipe in favor of stretching back out across the ground and gazing up at the neon sky, tracing the pinks and oranges that are starting to chase away the blue to make way for the first, bold stars to come out of hiding.

Snufkin sits in silence. He stares deep into the campfire, mentally running circles trying to process everything. All this new information about these forebodings, his father's completely careless attitude toward the whole thing - Snufkin has never been what one might describe as a fretful person. He's not a worry-wort, or a mother hen, nor the sort of person to let a little risk get in the way, within reason of course. But Joxter's attitude toward every danger he clearly knows he's faced, the pure dismissiveness of it all, it grates on him. He barely notices the long, thin tear he's scratching through his sleeve until his claw tangles in the miserable threads he's broken. He huffs his annoyance and stands, dusting himself off, and turning toward his tent.

"I'm tired." He states simply. "I'm going to bed. Just put out the fire when you're done. Goodnight."

Joxter watches him go, and rolls over on the log to smile at Snufkin. "You're lucky, aren't you! I never had anyone to explain such things to me!" he chuckles.

Glaring into the inviting darkness of his tent, Snufkin's eye twitches. His paw tightens around the flap, claws threatening a similar treatment to his poor sleeve. He looks over his shoulder with a not-remotely-threatening grin.

"Come to think of it, Joxter, I think Moominpappa mentioned something about locking the doors."

He predictably perks up at this. "Oh, did he now? Well, I can’t have that, now can I."

"No, I don't suppose you can." Snufkin hisses. " _Have fun!_ "

The tent flap zips shut behind him sharply as a zipper can zip. For a moment Joxter sits at the fire, watching the tent. His tail lashes behind him, his leg bounces faster and faster and faster and - he runs his paws up his face with a low, frustrated growl. He yanks his hat off with one paw, running the other through his hair while he stares into the campfire. He stares deep into its mocking orange-ish glow and wonders what he said that upset Snufkin so much. He wonders what didn't. He wonders if he should have come at all. He wonders if Moominpappa really did lock the doors - he wonders what that has to do with his wonderings. He lets out a deep sigh; the kind that doesn't loosen you up so much as it lets all the weight settle. He kicks some sandy dirt over the logs, and lets the earth choke the flames out while he slowly, quietly, and tiredly makes his way back to the tall, blue house across the river.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, this fic isn't dead! Just mostly dead! But mostly dead is slightly alive, so here we go, it's father-son time!   
> I've actually had parts of this talk scripted since like… chapter 3. Don't have much to say on this one, I think Joxter's "god, how do I Dad" vibes speak for themselves. Also I'm very tired and the only thing harder than writing is commentary.


End file.
